by Kit Kyndall
From his expression and his tone, it was clear he loved the roses. “Why are there so many?”
“Miranda Claymore donated the land a hundred years ago. The woman was practically obsessed with roses, so one of her stipulations for gifting land to the school was that they had to keep at least seventy-five percent of the roses on the property. That meant hiring a full-time caretaker just for the roses, so here we are.”
“Speaking of here we are, this is my dorm,” she said as she stood in front of the steps. Despite the fact she was in his shirt, and she couldn’t wait to get into her room a short time ago, now she lingered. “Thank you again. Is it all right if I return the shirt to you some other time?”
He grinned. “Sure. I’m on the grounds pretty much every day, so I’m sure you’ll see me. And I can show you the roses in more detail if you’d like sometime.”
Roses didn’t really hold her interest, but Jonas certainly did. She nodded. “I’d really like that. I’ll find you soon. Thanks again, Jonas.”
“You’re welcome. Bye, Candace.” He stood there until she walked up the steps.
When she reached the door to enter, she turned and found him walking away. With another deep breath, she entered the main lobby. Her only hope was to dart through anybody who might block her path and get to her room before anyone asked awkward questions about why she was wearing uniform shoes and a flannel shirt that smelled mildly of sweat, the outdoors, and a uniquely masculine scent that was all Jonas is.
There were a lot of people out, but she was able to skirt around most of them. She was halfway up the first staircase when she saw a boy coming down. He met her halfway and paused, grinning at her.
There was something about his smile that was infectious, and she couldn’t keep from grinning back. With his sandy blond hair, hazel eyes, and lean face, he was handsome in a nonthreatening way. That didn’t mean he was boring. When his smile widened, her heartrate increased, and her stomach clenched with butterflies.
“Nice outfit. You should submit the idea for a change to the school board.” He winked at her.
She smiled and laughed a little. “It is something, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “It’s a brave choice, I’ll give you that. I’m Alex Sperry, but most people call me Lex.”
“I’m Candace. Believe me. I don’t have a great sense of style, but this wasn’t my first choice. Some jackass thought it would be fun to steal my clothes and towel.” She curled her nose. “I know it was either Dalton or Malone.”
He cocked a brow. “Westerly?” At her nod, he grimaced. “Dalton Westerly is a real ass. I’ve never liked him. We’ve been at the same schools since we attended Exton Prep together, and I never saw a moment when I thought he was a decent person.”
“Welcome to my world.” It was nice to have someone see her point-of-view about Dalton. “What do you think about Malone?”
Lex shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t really know her very well. She went to a different prep school, of course, and we don’t move in the same social circles. From a guess, I’d say she’s just like Dalton though. I hear their older brother, Calvin, is completely different.”
“He is.” She gave him a genuine smile because she was thinking of Calvin. He was a few years older than the rest of them, and he was much calmer and more mature. He hadn’t freaked out when Ashton announced his engagement to Hannah, and he’d always been kind to both her and Hannah. That he treated her mother with respect went a long way for Candace. “He’s at Harvard.”
“You know the family?”
She grimaced. “Technically, I guess I am the family, but I don’t feel like it.”
His eyes widened. “Oh, you must be their new stepsister.” He shook his head. “I’ve heard lots of horrible rumors already, I’m sorry to say.”
Her stomach twisted in a knot, but she struggled not to show anxiety. “I guess I’m not surprised about that. Nothing good, I’m sure?”
He shrugged. “You don’t look like a hideous trailer park queen to me, but I admit I’ve never met a trailer park queen.” He winked at her.
His words could have been insulting, but the wry manner in which he delivered them revealed he wasn’t serious. He seemed like a nice, fun guy, and she laughed. “They might not believe it, but my mother and I never lived in a trailer.” She wasn’t certain the cramped apartment they’d lived in for five years before moving into Ashton’s place was any better than a trailer, but at least it was one cliché she couldn’t tick off on their boxes.
“Seriously, they’re nasty people, so if you need a friend or an ally, I’m down to helping you. I’d like to say it’s just because I’m such a nice guy, part of me wouldn’t mind thwarting Dalton.”
She grinned at him. “I wouldn’t mind that either. Thanks, Lex.” She looked down at her shirt. “I really should change before I get in trouble, but I hope to see you again soon.”
“You can count on it.” With a casual wave, he continued down the stairs while she went upward.
On the third floor, as she passed Edna’s room, she remembered she didn’t have her keycard. It had been in the pocket of her shorts. She stifled a groan and turned to Edna’s door, knocking firmly.
An older woman appeared a moment later with a headful of iron-gray curls and light-brown eyes. She was probably in her early sixties, and Candace couldn’t help thinking she was old enough to retire. She had a moment of sympathy, recalling Marge, who had waited tables with her mom several years ago. The woman had been approaching seventy, but she hadn’t been able to afford to completely retire on the pittance she’d received from Social Security.
“Yes, dear?” Her voice was gruff, but her expression was open.
“Someone stole my clothes at the pool, and my keycard was in my pocket. Do you have a spare?”
Edna frowned. “What a horrible prank. I’m afraid I don’t have a spare, dear, but I do have a master. I can let you into your room tonight, so you have no need to go by the housing office tonight, but you’ll need to go by in the morning to get a new keycard.”
Candace let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to run all over campus in this shirt.”
“Is it your shirt, dear?” asked Edna as she stepped out of her room. “Which number?”
“Twelve. And no, it’s not mine. I ran into the groundskeeper, Jonas?” At Edna’s nod, she added, “He came to my rescue and loaned me the shirt since I was in my swimsuit.”
“He’s such a thoughtful young man. Here we are.” Edna stuck the master key card into the slot, and room twelve opened a moment later. “Don’t forget to stop by the housing office in the morning to get a new keycard. If you need to be let in again later tonight, after dinner, you can ask me. Or you can go with your roommate.” Her voice hinted she strongly preferred the latter option, so she didn’t have to mess with this again.
“I don’t think I’m leaving my room again tonight. I plan to go to bed early, so thank you, Mrs. Grimley.”
“Ms.,” she said tartly and then nodded at Candace before turning and walking away.
Candace entered the room, finding it empty. She preferred it that way, especially now. She stripped off Jonas’s shirt and the wet swimsuit, hanging it to dry over the towel rack in their shared bathroom.
After putting on cozy pajamas, she got into bed and reached for her phone, planning to read for a while. Jonas’s shirt was still in her bed, and she reached for it without thought. She brought it closer to her face and inhaled, and then rubbed the soft, well-used flannel against her cheek. She couldn’t help questioning how his hands felt, speculating if they would be callused, or if they would be smooth and soft like the shirt.
Then she thought of Lex, who’d been so friendly and kind to her, and he was handsome in a completely different way, but no less interesting. She’d been convinced there was no one at BriarEdge Academy with whom she could become involved, but now she was rethinking that—and not because she wanted to be expelled by sneaking them into he
r room. She wanted a chance to get to know Jonas and Lex better. Maybe she should feel guilty for being attracted to both, but she wasn’t. It seemed harmless at the moment.
Chapter Four
Kip Stuart had known it was bound to transpire, but it had never happened before, so he was unprepared for being attracted to a student when he entered his classroom on the first day of actual instruction, and his gaze immediately moved to a girl he didn’t recognize. She sat in the front row, and she had long, black hair, pale skin that contrasted nicely, and a delicate bone structure.
She sounded average, but she was anything except that. Everything about her was exquisitely drawn and detailed, and he gasped slightly when he saw the vibrant green of her eyes when she looked up and met his gaze.
His body reacted strongly and immediately, and he rushed to stand behind the podium. He’d been teaching for three years, but this was the first time one of his high school-age students had appealed to him in a sexual way. There was no denying she had though, and it took every ounce of control he had to quell the physical reaction before he stepped out from behind the podium and introduced himself.
“I’m Professor Kip Stuart, and welcome to Literature 203. We’re going to discuss several classics, and we’ll even dabble in poetry.” He ignored the groans around him. “It won’t kill you, I promise. I hope some of you will develop or further develop, a love of literature by taking this class. I know it’s a required course for graduation, but hopefully some of you are in here because you’re excited to be, not just because you’re forced to be.”
It was the standard speech he’d used the previous three years of teaching, so by the fourth time he spoke in it, the words were practically rote. That was a good thing, because his mind was still turning, and his gaze kept wanting to dart to the girl in the front row.
Somehow, he managed to keep his gaze averted from her, though more than once he couldn’t resist looking at her shapely legs, encased in the white knee socks required as part of her uniform. Never in a million years could he have imagined finding them sexy, but they were on her.
He realized he’d fallen silent, and no one had spoken either. There was an awkward pause, and he hoped it hadn’t gone on for too long. Clearing his throat, he went to his desk and unloaded his bag, placing a stack of books on it. There were more groans as he showed them the six books they’d be discussing in class.
He held up the first one. “Jane Eyre, which I’m hoping some of you have already read. Raise your hand if you have.” He was pleased to see his new student raise her hand, along with a few other girls. None of the boys lifted an arm, and he shook his head. “I’d hoped more of you would’ve read it, including some of you young men.”
Seth Greenberg, who was sitting in the middle row at the very back, shook his head. “It’s a fricking romance, man.”
He let the disrespectful form of address slide. “Are you kidding? There’s nothing wrong with romance, but the book is so much more than that. It’s the story of a girl harshly treated and rising above that to see the fall of her tormentors. There’s madness and murder, a raging fire, a scarred hero, and a resilient, brave woman throughout.”
The girl whose name he didn’t know, but wanted to desperately, frowned as she raised her hand.
“What’s your name?”
“Candace. I don’t think she was all that brave. She went back to Rochester knowing he was a married man. He was definitely a controlling creep.”
He could feel a different kind of excitement flowing, and it was the one that came to him when he was about to engage in a lively literary discussion. Perhaps many people couldn’t relate to that, but it was a rush. “Remember, he wasn’t a married man by the end.”
She snorted. “He was still a liar, and he would’ve been a married man for life if his mad wife hadn’t burned herself to death in the house fire. She never should’ve gone back to him. She should’ve turned down her cousin’s proposal and just lived a life of moderate means on her own.”
He nodded. “That’s a common opinion, I’ll concede. Have you ever considered a different viewpoint though? In her time period, Jane Eyre would’ve been a bold and brazen young woman. She defied his insistence of owning her as his wife, and then as his mistress. She turned down another respectable proposal from St. John.”
“She was independent, and then she still went back to Rochester.” Candace shook her head. “She was a fool.”
“She went back to Rochester of her own free choice and on her terms that time. Today’s standards argue that she was subjugated, but I think she was liberated. She was able to make decisions, and she chose what could be considered scandalous to some.”
Candace shook her head. “She was going back to be his nursemaid and so she wouldn’t die alone. That’s not romance.”
Kip couldn’t help chuckling. “Maybe it’s not traditional romance, but you have to admit there are strong feelings between them. Sometimes, love is unconventional, and you don’t necessarily recognize it right away. It can feel like hatred, or rage, or even apathy.”
“Maybe.” She clearly remained unconvinced.
Realizing they had been discussing the plot of the story in front of the entire class, many of whom hadn’t read it, he returned his focus to his actual job. “All right, so I want the first few chapters read by the end of the week. You’ll have the first three weeks of class for reading and discussing Jane Eyre, so it behooves you to read as fast as possible. Bare minimum, one-third read by Friday, understood?” At the nods and groans protest, he nodded his head too. “Excellent. In that case, let’s go over the syllabus.”
He took a packet of papers from his bag and started passing them out. His hand brushed against Candace’s when he handed her the paper, and he swore his skin tingled at the tiny contact. He was in big trouble if he couldn’t get this under control.
They spent the rest of the class discussing the authors, class expectations, and how assignments would be structured. When the bell rang, they quickly filed out, except for Candace. She lingered, looking uncertain for a moment.
He sat down on his desk, hoping he’d arranged himself so that his suit jacket covered the visible bulge that grew as she came closer. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something, Candace?”
“I haven’t heard of a lot of the authors you have listed, and I’m wondering if I should read extra books or something, so I know what we’re discussing?”
His eyes widened. “These are fairly standard. We covered these books in 103. Where did you last attend school?”
“Springfield High School.” She grinned at him with a touch of wryness. “The famous suburb of Portland. And when I say famous, I mean infamous. Springfield has a higher murder rate per capita than Boston.”
His eyes widened. He hadn’t expected that answer. “Are you here on scholarship?”
She frowned. “Why? Are you going to treat me differently if I am?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
That served to bring his gaze there, and since she wasn’t wearing her blazer or sweater, he could see the line of her bra through the shirt. That shouldn’t have been sexy, but he couldn’t deny it made his heart rate elevate. He cleared his throat. “Of course not. I’m just trying to figure out how I can best help you be ready for this class. What were the books you read for your last literature course?”
She listed a few, and he turned over one of the syllabi to write them on the back. When he was done, he nodded and wrote down several novels. “Why don’t you try reading these as quickly as you can? That should bring you up to speed.” He handed her the list.
Once more, their hands brushed, and their gazes locked. His groin tightened, and it took everything he had not to trace his fingers across hers and feel the smoothness of her skin. Somehow, he maintained a professional expression and impersonal tone when he said, “Let me know if you have more questions or problems.”
“Yes, Professor Stuart.” She gave him a demure smile and slung her backpack o
ver her shoulder before walking away.
His gaze went to the hem of her skirt, revealing the back three inches of her knee before the skin disappeared under the ridiculous knee socks the girls had to wear. He wondered what was under the skirt and nearly moaned aloud.
He was still staring after her when someone cleared her throat. He groaned softly as he recognized the sound and turned to look at Suzanne. She was the teacher across the hall, a professor of mathematics, and a thorn in his side. She’d been after him since his first day of teaching when he’d come to work at the academy three years ago.
Four now, he realized with a start, since this was the beginning of a new year. Somehow, he managed a pleasant smile. “Hello, Suzanne. It’s nice to see you again. Did you have a good summer?”
She was frowning, not bothering to answer his question. Her gaze had also followed Candace, though the girl was long gone by now. She turned back to look at him. “She’s a student, you know?”
He blinked, feigning ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“The girl you were staring at. She’s a student here, which makes her very off-limits. You’d hate to lose your job over something like that.” Her tone was somewhere between a warning and a threat.
He managed what he hoped was a carefree laugh. “Oh, I wasn’t staring at her. I was lost in thought, and I didn’t even notice.”
She looked skeptical, but she didn’t call him on it. Instead, her expression changed, and she smiled in what she probably thought was an attractive manner. To him, it looked faintly predatory. She was a pretty woman, for certain, but she left him cold. “I’m going to the faculty lounge for lunch. I thought maybe we could sit together?”
He’d rather gnaw off his own arm and eat that for lunch, but he was too polite to say that. He managed a regretful smile. “Perhaps another day. I’d like to memorize my student list this lunch break.”
She frowned. “You have plenty of time for that.”
He shrugged. “I like to be prepared. Thanks for the invitation though.”
